Brotherhood: A Little Like Home
by IronRaven
Summary: Just a day in the life for Wanda. As Fury's SHEILD witch, she might find the peace that has eluded her since she was so very little.


**Brotherhood: A Little Like Home**

Wanda leaned against the railing, watching the setting sun.

Her shoulder was sore, her hands stiff. She'd spent a chunk of the afternoon on the rifle range. She'd been dismissive of the Colonel's requirement that they learn how to use weapons other than just their powers. But she had come to appreciate the simple pleasure of poking a hole in something at three quarters of a mile. Her spells couldn't reach that far, but with the right rifle she could. Particularly if she could combine it with her powers, or with a spell. She'd even anchored spells on some ammunition. She now had shotgun shells that could blow a hole in a tank.

But that wasn't why she enjoyed shooting. In the beginning, she'd picture her brother's face on the target. That way she could rarely miss.

Now, especially with the long rifles, it was the peacefulness. She couldn't think, she couldn't be afraid, she had to leave the past and the guilt behind on the hard shots. She couldn't even focus on one thing- she had to focus on nothing and everything. She couldn't exist as only Wanda at that moment, she had to be part of everything. She had be aware of herself, of the target, of the weapon, the wind, even the smallest buzzing insect that might get in the way and deflect the bullet on it's way down range. She even felt like she was stepping outside of time. She didn't need to think about squeezing the trigger between breaths; she could do it between the four parts of her heartbeat, that was how aware she was.

She was the shooter. She was the rifle. And the bullet. And the air. And the target. And when all were one in time and space, the world tore itself apart for a few hundredths of a second.

She'd learned to apply it to her other skills, everything from hand to hand to her spell craft to driving. She had time to change the shape of things as they happened, she could reform a spell or a hex as it was cast, give it a new shape. She was creating time for herself, she existed at the speed of thought within her own mind. She had to be careful, or she'd pull muscles moving when she was in that state- her mind was fast, but her body was still limited.

The sensation was addictive, and humbling at the same time. It made her appreciate her own mortality.

More than the breathing exercises that Xavier had taught her, more than the happy, fuzzy bunny visualization exercises the shrink here had tried to get her to use, it had taught her control of her anger. Even at Pietro. But he'd learned to use that against her. If she couldn't lash out, she could still bottle it up rather than beat him into a grease spot.

This morning, the gate gaurds had called to ask if someone could come get Pietro. He'd been picked up in town two young ladies. Very young. It was legal, sorta, if their parent's didn't want to press charges. The badge had been what kept him out of jail. She'd told them to bring him over, she'd unlock the door. He'd just smirked, like picking up a couple of high school juniors was was something to be proud of. She told him to go to bed. And that she was sorry.

She was sorry he was the way he was. He wasn't always like this. He could hurt her, he always would be able to. She could remember Peity, her shy little brother, the one the bullies picked on. The one she'd protected. The one she'd hugged, and who she told Daddy would be home soon, he was just away on business. Five minutes older, it might as well have been five years.

The Colonel had been furious when he interrupted their breakfast this morning. Despite the sound proofing in the rooms, Fury's screaming had been legible through Pietro's wall. It wasn't the first time this had happened. It wasn't even the first time this month. It would for damn sure be the last time, or Quicksilver would find himself hanging from the flagpole.

The Colonel had been around all day. Maybe it was keeping an eye on Pietro. Maybe he was just checking in on what some of the Agents called "One Eye's pet circus". He was their boss, their sponsor, their mentor when he could, but he was also the head of one of the most covert agencies in the world. He wouldn't be there in the real world when it got scary and messy and nightmarish, either. If the couldn't deal with bumps and scrapes and hurt feelings without him, they weren't the Brotherhood anymore, or Agents of SHEILD.

He was making them learn all kinds of things. Not just weapons and hand to hand and lock picking. Math, science, history, even things like dancing. Watching Fred try to dance on his toes had been funny, but she'd been almost as bad the first few times. The Colonel usually wasn't there for their training, but he was when he could be. When it was really quiet at night, after the Colonel had gone back to his own quarters, Wanda wondered if this is what it was like being an X-man. Or if her father had been more hands on with the Brotherhood. She wished there was a different Earth were that happened, where Magneto had seen what was happening to her, and saved her from the mental ward and turned the Brotherhood into something more than it had been. Something real, with power.

And the Colonel was a pretty good cook- it was his secret, "not so manly" hobby. When he hung around all day like this, it meant that he was probably going to make dinner. Then he'd tell war stories, but it wasn't just reminiscing, it was another class. That evening, or tomorrow, or a month from now, he'd ask them what they would have done in that situation, make them treat it as a table top exercise. Or it would be recreated in a field exercise. He once told them that 'a school is a log with a student at one end and a teacher at the other'. It could also be the kitchen table, with the Colonel telling a tale of dashing and daring do, gesturing with his hands, mimicking voices, sketching on the white board or showing them a map or photos.

In the cooling of the air, she heard a crunch on the gravel roof. A foot step. One she'd gotten used to- she'd never be able to tell people by their footsteps, but this one was more of a hop. "Hi, Todd."

Todd put took the top part of the railing in his hands, his feet on the knee rail, legs bent. "Colonel sent me to get you- he's making toxos."

Wanda winced. Tacos meant that Fred had beaten the Colonel when they were sparing earlier. It had taken Fred a little while to realize that size, weight and strength weren't all that it took to win a fight. Fred loved tacos, all mexican and tex-mex food really, and it was part of the standard bet. If Fred could beat the Colonel hand to hand, next time the Colonel cooked it would be something like tacos or burritos or chili. "One of the days, Fred could hurt him."

"Nah. Only thing in the world meaner than Fury is Sabertooth." He pulled himself up, jumping to squat on the top of the railing. As part of his pilot training, Todd had been learning about things in the sky, so he wouldn't waste time chasing swamp gas. Now he could tell that from a real alien starship. He twitched a thumb as the bright star-like object just above the horizon. "Venus AND Wanda- two hot sexy ladies and me, alone on a rooftop. Oh yeah, take that, Pietro!"

Wanda laughed. At least he'd given up trying to seduce her; they could be friends. He was actually a pretty good friend. She learned the hard way that a guy watching you sleep was a danger when she was in the mental ward; she'd learned these three could watch her sleep and it would be safe. She could trust them. She wasn't quite sure yet if she trusted John, and she'd never completely trust her brother, but Lance, Todd and Fred, yeah.

"Hey, I almost forgot! Guess what I learned today!"

"That it works better if you aren't upside down when you land?"

"Nah, that was last week's lesson." He grinned. "The word planet is greek, it means 'wanderer'. Don' your name mean the same thing? Nutty, huh. You ain't the wanderin' type."

She nodded. She'd learned that when she was a little kid. "And Todd means 'fox'."

"FOX!" Todd snorted. "Fuzzy and red with a bushy tail, smooshed flat on the side of the road? Nah, ain't happenin'. Hey, how'd you know that?"

She shrugged. "I looked it up- don't get your hopes up, I looked all our names up. 'Lance' is means 'from the land', or after Lancelot, the knight. 'Fred' is supposed to be the 'wise ruler'."

"Huh. Fred is supposed to be the wise leader? Wow, his parent's screwed that one up." He shook his head. "So what does Pietro's mean? Stupid, horny jackass?"

"Rock." She sighed.

"Know what they call a rock in space?" He waited while she shrugged. "An ass-turd-roid. Guess your Dad wasn't always wrong!" He grinned as she giggled. He liked hearing her laugh. He'd spent a lot of time with the head-quack. He knew he'd come on too strong, trying to impress her. Didn't mean he wouldn't still die for her. He'd worship her if she asked him.

There was a muted shout from the living quarters. "That sounds like the food met Fred, and the food is scared. Come on, we need to get down there before it runs away."


End file.
